Greenleaf
by Catheryne
Summary: SVLotR. ChloeLegolas. Legolas Greenleaf searched for her since the Third Age. Being with her meant setting into motion the curse on the jewels of Valinor. Can they overcome the very forces that sundered them before? COMPLETE
1. Part 1

AN: Please do not flame me for this one. This is a bit out there. Hopefully, you will be able to accept the idea and hold on for the whole story. 

 Greenleaf

 _There is one truth that we do not question in our lands: A creature who cannot die may never know the heights of bliss and pain. I am one who has seen the great trees shed their leaves close to five thousand times. Surely mere men and woman would believe that I have shed tears for both joy and despair. I am Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood, and I am immortal. I have fought wars against evil, emerged victorious; I have traveled the earth until the land broke into the clumps today. The creatures of yesterday are now legends in the eyes of men. As the belief in my kind fades with the years, so does the truth of our existence. I walk alone, searching for another moment, another touch, even another glimpse of the one mortal who had bound my heart to hers unfairly. Mortals die. For having illicitly broken the mores of Elvenhome, I have cursed myself to wander forever._

 _Arwen had the right of it. She had long since passed away, yet happily. Her body, as had her husband's, had been blown away as dust by the west wind. The years had been kind to her mind and her heart, if not to her beauty. Yet one thing separated my choice from hers. She had the chance to live and die with Aragorn. _

_I will never rest in Elvenhome, far from men, until I have lived with her completely. Every time, man has destroyed my chance. I will search for her with no regard to the number of lifetimes I will pass. A hundred years is but a little while to us. _

 The slender man walked along the fields, heedless of the dark still night and the dark eerie moon that hung overhead. His golden hair fell on the sides of his face, shielding his visage from anyone who happened to be on the road. His thin shoes barely made a sound, nor disturbed the dust as he made his way. From the appearance of his clothes it was apparent that he had traveled a long way, yet his brisk and soundless strides belied that. He could have vanished in the night, so silent was he. Yet when he made his way into the quiet town, his appearance made it impossible. To the few who were fortunate enough to witness his approach, the conclusion was simple and unanimous.

 Legolas took his moss green cap off and looked up at the velvet sky, revealing his features to the townsfolk. He was fair beyond any man's measure. The people were so enraptured by the visitor that all movement stopped and they watched him.

 Legolas used a slender arm to reach up, almost as if he were reaching for the stars. The still night shifted as a breeze blew softly to please the elf. He read the position of the stars and moon, and then smelled the breeze's kiss on his palm. "To her, I grow closer."

He trudged on, unmindful of the fixed gazes of the people around him. Seven days he had not slept nor eaten. Soon he may feel faint, and that would not do. Losing her again was not an option. He hoped this little town had an inn.  


	2. Part 2

AN: Thanks for the warm response to that short first part. I'm glad that you are curious about this.  
  
Part 2  
  
Where there is love and joy, your home cannot be far. Gabe Sullivan would say that to his daughter as the little girl curled into a ball late at night, sniffling, pitying herself because of the loss of a mother who, if judged by that one last act, did not love her daughter enough to matter. In her young life, Chloe proved that this simple thesis worked. She was at home in high school even when she was not a resident of the town, because her best friends had shown her the love and care. Even after her mother had left, Chloe lost nothing of home as her father quickly filled in the void that yawned then. Pity to be back in what used to be a home and find that there is no love, no joy, no father to wrap your arms around. Her chest was a cavity that constricted with the feeling that she could do nothing about it, merely come and watch Gabe Sullivan laid to rest. "Do the dreams still bother you?" Chloe turned around to acknowledge the newcomer, and noted that Lana Lang, whose slight body had half deranged her friend for many years, was now full with child. She had not heard this, even from Pete who had become her sole confidante these many years. It was only logic that his wife would know. Chloe nodded and approached the young wife. "It never leaves anymore. Sometimes I wonder if it's part of me, and I will never be rid of it." Lana smiled and accepted the embrace that the blonde initiated. She patted her friend's back.. "If the dreams are terrible then they will leave. They can never be part of you, Chloe." "I've seen bad images, Lana, and they have stayed. How can you say the dreams aren't products of the horror I cover every day?" "It's a simple thing, Chloe. The memories of the events you've seen are in your brain. What you dream about, those come from the heart," Lana explained. "And the dreams are the reality of who you are." "That's such a large stock we place on dreams, Lana, when they can be figments of the imagination." "And isn't imagination a fruit of your heart?" Chloe smiled. "It's what your father would have said." Chloe mulled over the idea for a while. Lana had since left a glass of milk on the table beside her bed. Chloe picked it up and looked deep into the liquid. It was thick and opaque. Chloe could get lost in visions within its depths. There were ways to find out what those dreams really meant. Her psychiatrist introduced the idea of hypnotherapy to her, so that she could go deep inside herself and rediscover memories of past lives that were resurfacing. Chloe had seen amazing things in her lifetime and knew that a past life was not something to be discounted. She closed her eyes and sighed in relief. The burning sensation had been getting heavier each second, and it was all she could do to think of different things. Anything that would take her thoughts away from the coming morning, she wanted to grab hold of. It was never easy to bury a loved one. To Chloe, it would be the most painful trial to bury the only person you truly loved. Her eyelids trembled. This was why she needed to think of new things. Even while reading the humor section of Readers' Digest, Chloe could not keep the tears at bay. Her relationship with Gabe Sullivan had been one that would make all fathers and daughters green with envy. No other father would tell a heartbroken sixteen year-old that she was the type of girl that a young man settled with, if not the type to be chased young. She was more than any girl in Smallville, Metropolis, the States, even the Universe. It was something that only a parent would say. Chloe would thank her father forever for giving her that voice in her head that kept her chin up during the lowest moments of her life. She laid back on the soft sheets and relished the feeling of being engulfed, as if the bed would eat her up and suffocate her. She would not need to go to an interment that she still could not believe would happen. Chloe would perhaps open her eyes and see bright light and then a shadow, then finally the face of her father, who would smile and tell her to take his hand and come with him. There was no need to fear because with her daddy she would always be safe. Heaven would be their playground. Chloe closed her eyes and faded with sleep, pulled deeper and deeper, and then slowly she broke through the surface and sucked in her breath. Before her was a towering city carved into mountains. She was so small, smaller even than how she would seem when faced with the giant walls. She teetered to the side and looked down, finding kid slippers hanging way above the ground. Chloe found herself on a horse, held by a steady arm that seemed to have forgotten her presence. "Meilo," came a sharp burst of command. "Steady the girl!" At once, the arm had pulled her against a chest and she was once again secure. Chloe looked down at her kid slippers. Her gaze was caught instead by the silvery glass that was broken by the horses' hooves. They were running through a very shallow pond. She caught her reflection once before the calm was destroyed. She was a child. She looked back up to the man who urged his horse to run beside the one she was on. It was the man who told the arm to hold her tightly. Chloe tried to smile up at him, but the man with the dark hair whipping in the wind did not flick his eyes towards her. It put her off and she wiggled in her seat. Once again, Chloe almost slipped off the horse and into the path of the hooves. "Meilo!" the man bit again. "King Aragorn, the girl is intractable!" The man Aragorn held his arms out. "One unruly girl brings you to your knees, man? What are we supposed to do with you should a war begin?" Chloe felt herself hauled from one horse to the king's, her arms slipped from the tight clutch she had on her precious burden. The ride was bumpy then, because the king seemed bent on outrunning everyone else. She began to sniffle and cry. "Legolas!" Aragorn called to the front. Chloe's tears slipped down her cheeks and were licked away by the wind. She looked ahead and witnessed the most beautiful thing she had ever beheld. A man with straight golden hair, of slight frame and the most striking features that she could liken to nothing else on earth, turned around at King Aragorn's demanding hail. "What concerns you, Aragorn?" "I have a sniffling load."  
  
The blue eyes turned to her. Chloe's sniffles ceased and she stared open- mouthed at the appearance of this Legolas. He had sharp pointed ears that she had never seen before. "Your ears are not normal at all!" she told him.  
  
"Certainly not, child," Legolas responded after chuckling. "For I am not a plain human like your new guardian."  
  
Chloe's moist eyes widened. "You're not?"  
  
"I'm a Sindarin elf."  
  
"You're very pretty."  
  
This time, both Legolas and King Aragorn laughed. The elf bowed his head graciously. "I thank you. Now why do you cry?"  
  
"Enid drowned."  
  
Legolas glanced at Aragorn. "Enid?"  
  
"She was a sole survivor in the fort, Legolas. There was no Enid who came with the party."  
  
Chloe looked back and glared at the king. "Enid was with me and fell from my hands when you dragged me from Meilo's horse!" And then she pointed to the direction where they had come from. "And she's there in the water!"  
  
"Enid is that ragged cloth bag that you were clutching?"  
  
Chloe shook her head. The king was unlikable. How could her father have given her care to such a man? "She is my friend," she insisted, tears rising.  
  
Her beautiful savior nodded. "I will fetch your doll. You need not worry."  
  
"Legolas, we must make it to the city before dark."  
  
And then the elf flashed a grin at the king that made Chloe blink. It was perhaps his specific position against the setting sun. All she knew was that Legolas appeared shrouded by light and shadow, in the perfect way that enhanced all that could be admired. "Do you not trust my celerity, king?"  
  
"Hie then. Quickly."  
  
Legolas nodded, and said to Chloe before he left, "Well you shall have your friend within the hour. Come dry your tears." And then he jerked his knee and prodded the horse to a fast gallop.  
  
She craned her neck, Aragorn's vest abrasive on her cheek as she followed Legolas until he faded from her sight. She would soon have Enid back.  
  
The sun warmed her face and danced on her forehead, her lips, and finally her arms. Chloe opened her eyes and saw that the sunlight had peeked through the curtains of Lana and Pete's guest room. She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a yawn. It seemed like a fair day, so light and airy and so unbecoming for what she would have to face.  
  
She rose from the bed and walked to the closet. She drew out the black dress that Lana had hung there for her to wear. Chloe's heart was too large and too heavy inside her. She closed her eyes and vowed that she would face the day with the strength and dignity that befit Gabe Sullivan's daughter. There was comfort in dreams, even if there was none in waking. 


	3. Part 3

AN: Please forgive how slowly I will be working on this story because I am now reading Tolkien's Silmarillion for a better perspective of Legolas and his kind. (  
  
Part 3  
  
"What foul deeds have these mercenaries in my friend's lands?" Gimli wondered, his voice booming in the open air to Gondor. "How many see you, elf?"  
  
Legolas turned to look at the camp and swept his gaze. "No short of fifty," he told the dwarf.  
  
"What use is your keen sight if you will not give me precise figures, Legolas?" the dwarf demanded.  
  
"Fifty six," he responded.  
  
"Eight and twenty a piece then," Gimli calculated. "We must rid the land of these with ill intent towards the people."  
  
"Rest easy, Gimli. For now there is no threat." Gimli deflated. Legolas sniffed the air. "I sense a presence that has since departed. It is the scent of a young woman." Legolas walked forward up to a space overlooking the camp. "Here is where she had stayed."  
  
"May her unfortunate soul have died in peace," Gimli muttered, seeing how full in view Legolas was then.  
  
The Elven eyes that turned to him was awed. "She lives."  
  
"A miracle then," Gimli huffed. "To be so close to death and yet saved? Was it Aragorn's doing?"  
  
A pause as Legolas surveyed his surroundings. "I sense no other presence. The girl escaped by herself."  
  
The two continued on their way to Gondor. They rode in and dismounted at the sight of Aragorn and Arwen standing outside the castle. The two embraced the king in greeting. Legolas turned to Arwen, and studied her. Always, she would be lovely. Yet even now Legolas could see in her face changes that the Gift had wrought.  
  
He stepped towards the queen and kissed her hand. Two thousand years they have lived, and only then did his heart constrict to find lines that did not belong, creases where there should only be smooth pearly radiant skin.  
  
"Welcome back to the City of Kings. It has taken you too long. Did you pass the Sea to come honor my mother with a visit?"  
  
"Celebrian must wait. Middle-Earth still holds too many pleasures for me."  
  
Arwen nodded and slipped her arm through Legolas'. At her movement, Legolas saw a young woman who stood behind her. His eyes were captured by her face, framed golden by her hair. As if commanded by the gods, he met her eyes and saw what his kinsmen have wept for, fought for, even killed their brothers for. Legolas swallowed deeply. Arwen was no longer immortal, and it stood to reason that she would not have recognized.  
  
Arwen noticed who had Legolas' rapt attention then. "You remember Chiara."  
  
"My stubborn ward," Aragorn added from behind them.  
  
If it were not what he suspected, then only witchery and black arts could have caused the world then to drop from his vision until all he could see was her light. "I remember a child. This is a vision." He walked forward and took her hand. He bent to pay his respect to the light in her eyes when her scent brought the entire Gondor back into his sight. Legolas looked up at her with a wealth of questions in his eyes.  
  
She read his intent and pleaded silently.  
  
"King, are you aware that your ward has reached Amon Din, almost to the first beacon of Gondor, close to the camps of the mercenaries?"  
  
Chiara's lips parted in surprise, overcome with sheer disbelief that the new arrival should so reveal her when she had pleaded. She flashed an apology towards the man and woman who had served as her parents for ten years.  
  
"What is a vow to you, Chiara?" Aragorn's low voice rumbled in his chest. "What esteem do you hold for us that you would break your word for a jaunt outside the city walls?"  
  
Chiara bowed her head low, so that she may not look at her guardian in the eye for her shame. Legolas saw the veil of her golden hair and was saddened by the feeling of loss that possessed him when the light was gone.  
  
Arwen placed a steady hand on Chiara's back. "We must speak."  
  
Legolas watched them climb the steps, gliding up as they seemed. The two women vanished into the castle. He turned to Aragorn and Gimli and straightened when he saw them watching him with interest. 


	4. Part 4

AN: Thank you for being amazingly patient and supportive. Btw, Chiara is pronounced with a hard c or /k/ sound because in Tolkien's Middle Earth, no CH whether Elven or Men, is pronounced as /ch/, always /k/.  
  
Part 4  
  
As it had been then, long generations before, that night the Elven prince Legolas wandered away from the people who were in awe of his presence. It was in this retreat from the eyes of those who did not fully understand him that he came upon a faint and distant light away from the town. With light fleet feet he walked towards the beacon.  
  
He had always sought goals that seemed impossible to most. Now at a time when nothing was beyond comprehension-when horses were relegated for sports or cattle, when Men flew in the air rather than brave the rigors of a journey across the land, when Evil lay within the hearts rather than dwelt in the Shadows-Legolas sought something so common it would have been preposterous to his race.  
  
Too many times he had denied a place at the foot of Iluvatar; too many times he had angered the Valar. Legolas traded all the ships that led to his paradise for each fleeting moment with Chiara. The thousand breaths in her company made completely insignificant the countless ceaseless ages that he waited.  
  
Legolas stopped before a farmhouse, again surrounded by fields, thrown away from the town yet close enough that he could easily turn his head and see the faces of all that moved inside. It was the most viable location, for he would not be too exposed.  
  
"Who's there?" he heard a woman call out. "Clark, son, is that you?"  
  
Legolas slid from the direction of the voice, gliding in the shadows until he discovered another door. Swift as he was, Legolas was able to get in with no sound nor trouble.  
  
The place was poor and shoddy, yet by far more passable than any he lived in during his travels. The inside was wooden and cold. Haystacks took up most of the space at the first level. When he looked up he saw the perfect shelter to hide him well.  
  
The discovery of what appeared like a bunk at the high room was gratifying. Legolas pulled the sheets down and away and settled on the cushion, air rushing out of his half-open lips as he relished the feel of a comfortable for the first time in eons. With each night that he came closer to the light of his soul, the deeper and the longer his sleeping came. The deeper into the lands of dreams he was, the more Legolas relived. He lost himself in a grand world that was far better than the Woodlands his place of awakening.  
  
~~  
  
Middle-earth lay before him, spread out as gifts should be, a thing of beauty. Legolas stood at the ramparts of the City of Kings and wondered at the deep abiding love the Valar placed into the hearts of Elves for a creation such as this. He, like all his People, would be thankful forever to Eru for his awakening, yet he could in no real way comprehend that he would want for them to leave the rivers and stars that have sustained them long and been loved by them.  
  
The wills and politics of the gods were an enigma that was not for that very hour.  
  
He looked around and read the lands that he could see. All beacons of Gondor once more at rest, and the band of mercenaries drawing ever closer.  
  
He heard the movement behind him, and from the sound of footsteps Legolas knew who it was who stood behind him before she spoke a word. He stood still and fixed his gaze on the uncertain horizon.  
  
"Arwen has told me wealth of your race. I see your eyes so intent and still," Chiara said. "Do you see the distant lands?"  
  
"I see," he answered. "But I will not tell you what. Were you meant to know you would have been given the same gifts."  
  
He felt the sudden stiffness of her back, the coldness of the set of her shoulders. "I used to think of you fondly, Legolas. You were my beautiful savior. Now you are merely an Elf who cannot keep silent of the affairs of others."  
  
Legolas turned slowly around to regard her, and his throat was pained by beauty that he never acknowledged in his kin. That this daughter of Numenor could so enthrall his eyes that have seen Arda over the sea was confounding. He knew that her anger stemmed from what he had revealed to her guardians. Legolas could not keep his response silent. "An Elf's features do not change through time, Chiara," he reminded her.  
  
His gaze was almost tangible as it ran over her face for what she did not know.  
  
"If to you I was then fair, I do not doubt how I am now," he told her with a tease of laughter.  
  
"Pompous Sindarin," she muttered with burning cheeks.  
  
"Last time I was here you were an imp who caused trouble for your guardians."  
  
"I still do."  
  
"So I have witnessed," he agreed. "But you are a lovely young woman now."  
  
Chiara's brows furrowed, for to hear an Elf speak of beauty of one other than Middle-Earth was incomprehensible. "You find me fair?"  
  
The archer walked towards her and stopped with mere inches between them. "You shine like the light."  
  
Chiara closed her eyes and sighed. The most precious thing for his People was light. After the loss of the jewels that contained the Lights of Valinor, the Elves were possessed by their esteem for light.  
  
"For an age I bode my time. I saw it when you were a child. I see the light in you still, only much fiercer. It calls to a part of my being I cannot name," he told her in a soft whisper of breath that teased her ear.  
  
The breath that she had been holding she swallowed. Chiara closed her hand over his and warned him, "Then be afraid of such strong will!"  
  
Chiara pulled him with her and led him back into the castle, ducking into a hidden portal and running down a darkened flight of stairs. When the descent seemed endless, Chiara pushed open a door and they burst outside the city walls. She whirled around to face him, gasping for breath.  
  
"You cannot tell the King!"  
  
At once Legolas' arms shot back to take his bow and an arrow from his quiver. Slowly he rotated with his weapon at the ready, his stance straight and his keen eyes actively reading his surroundings for a sign of danger. Long moments later he lowered his bow but did not set it aside. He gave her all outward signs of disapproval at her rashness.  
  
"Chiara, you must inform Aragorn of this passage! And never do this again. Your guardian has many enemies who will not hesitate to hurt you."  
  
"I keep myself safe," she answered.  
  
The Elf's smooth face seemed mottled now, frustration a loud brandish on his features. "And what of skilled fighters?" he demanded. "My People are Immortal yet we can be killed by the likes of these mercenaries."  
  
Chiara gasped when Legolas took her by her arm. At the sound, Legolas let go of her and apologized. He took a step back from her, stunned at his action. He had prided himself for a cool and logical approach to all that he faced. One day with her and he had lost control.  
  
She saw his quick regret and repeated, "Legolas, I am afraid of no one. I fear one thing, and that is that these mercenaries will raze another of my homes."  
  
"If I swear to you that I will make it my affair that these mercenaries not be cause of trouble and unrest in Gondor, will you keep safe?" Chiara nodded. "So be it."  
  
They made their way back to the castle by ascending the darkened steps. When they emerged from the hidden doorway and arrived at the hallway for their dinner, Legolas' keen perception registered all eyes, of Men and Elves, on them. He glanced at Chiara and saw her flushed. Only then did he notice his hand on the small of her back. They were treated to still silence.  
  
Legolas looked straight at Aragorn's shuttered face and calmly ushered the king's ward into the dining hall, sitting beside her and handing her a goblet of wine.  
  
The silence was broken when the King asked the new arrival, "Tell me, Legolas, when do you plan to journey to Mirkwood?"  
  
Chiara regarded him from beneath her eyelashes. Legolas saw the movement and took it as that of one who did not want to appear curious. "There are too many places to visit yet, Lord Aragorn," came Legolas' easy answer.  
  
"And what of settling down?" the King inquired next. "Surely Thranduil has a bride in mind for his son, an Elven prince."  
  
Legolas glanced at Arwen, who shook her head. The former Elven princess watched her husband. "I have too long a life for that, King. You know this."  
  
"Surely you must also think of having children of your own, Legolas," he continued.  
  
"I think of your children as my own, Aragorn. For now it is enough."  
  
Legolas saw Chiara's hand fist before closing over a fork. He quickly touched it to soothe her nervousness.  
  
"Perhaps," Aragorn said. Legolas looked up surprised that the king was not done. "But I remember how well you handled Chiara as a child, and knew then that you would be a fine father."  
  
The Elf pulled his hand back as though burned. "Thank you, Aragorn. You are a true friend."  
  
The tension was palpable. The food was untouched. Arwen spoke, "Chiara, you must drink the water. I have placed powders that will help you."  
  
Chiara looked up at Arwen, grateful that one had spoken of something other than an Elven marriage or departure.  
  
"Soon, we will see more children in this castle," Aragorn announced.  
  
"Aragorn," Arwen said gently. "We have not spoken to Chiara."  
  
"Are you bearing one, Arwen?" Legolas asked. "The blessings of life surely come to you."  
  
Aragorn shook his head. "The prince of Rohan, son of Eowyn and Faramir, has asked for Chiara's hand in marriage, needlessly."  
  
"Has he been informed that I am not amenable?" Chiara asked.  
  
"Needlessly, I say, Chiara, because as the last of the line of Numenor outside my family you have been promised to Rohan by his father. It is more than a suitable match."  
  
Chiara stood up slowly. "I have no wish to wed him or any man, King."  
  
"Chiara," Aragorn said calmly, "you need a husband to temper your ways. Do you wish to spend the rest of your life running outside aimlessly?"  
  
"I need no temperance," she told him. Out of courtesy she bowed her head to Arwen before leaving the room. 


	5. Part 5

AN: Thank you once again. (  
  
Part 5  
  
The dress was a bit snug around her chest. Chloe adjusted the back to breathe freely. She looked at herself in the mirror and examined the lines of her face carefully. There were some laugh lines, unavoidable unless she wanted to be stoic all her life. It was not to hard a concept now.  
  
She picked up the brush from the dresser and hurriedly ran it through her hair. Hurriedly, she reddened her lips with the raspberry from her bag and took a deep breath. There were too many things to think about. Thankfully, her brain had stopped working hours yesterday when she heard the news, twenty minutes after she landed in Metropolis after a two-month long coverage in the wartorn East.  
  
The knock on the door did not startle her, not because she expected it but because she simply had no reaction to the outside world anymore. She made her way to the door and mechanically smiled at Lana.  
  
The brunette smiled back at her and acknowledged, "You look very nice, Chloe."  
  
"Thanks. My sleep was relatively peaceful. Are we leaving?"  
  
Lana shook her head. "Not yet. Lex is here to see you though. He's waiting in the living room."  
  
Chloe's brows furrowed in confusion. She had not seen Lex since she went off to college. Gabe had been an employee of LexCorp until his death, serving as a production and systems consultant even as his health waned.  
  
Chloe asked her hostess, "Did he tell you why?"  
  
Lana shook her head. "He did ask me and Pete to go ahead of you to the reception. He'll take you instead."  
  
Chloe nodded. This must concern her father. She and Lex hardly had a common ground to speak at length about anything. "All right, Lana. Thanks again."  
  
Chloe made her way down the stairs and saw Lex Luthor stand up. He nodded once in greeting. Chloe hugged Pete and Lana and walked with them to the door.  
  
"We'll be right behind you," were Lex's first words since her descent.  
  
When the Rosses have departed, Chloe turned to Lex. "Thank you for coming, Mr Luthor. It is an honor to my dad that you would include him in your doubtless hectic schedule."  
  
"Nonsense," Lex interjected. "Gabe ws a valuable colleague."  
  
Chloe settled in one of cozy armchairs. "That's good to hear, Mr Luthor."  
  
"Lex, Chloe. Please. We're not so different, you and I. We're both orphans struggling through life now." Lex took a shiny titanium box from his jachet pocket. It was a small container,no bigger than a watch case. "Gabe wanted you to have this."  
  
Chloe accepted the box and lovingly traced the metal. "What is it?"  
  
"Would you believe me if I told you that I have no idea? Curiosity has seized me since he pushed that into my hands but I have too high a regard for Gabe to open it without his permission."  
  
Chloe looked at the lock of the box. "Or did you just not know how to?"  
  
"It would have been nothing if I had wanted to destroy it."  
  
Chloe tried the series of numbers that was her birthday. "It's not the date of my birth." She tried other combinations of her father's birhday, her graduation, her mother's birthday, their addresses in Metropolis and Smallville. Lex watcged as she screwed her lips in concentration.  
  
"Still no luck then."  
  
She gave him a lopsided grin. "What gave me away?" Chloe looked out the window and aw the stretch limousine parked out front. "Can we leave now? I'll battle this lock in your car."  
  
Lex nodded and led her to the vehicle. He opened the door for her and ushered her in before climbing in at the other side. The second he settled beside her, the lid popped open. Lex looked at her in surprise.  
  
"You found the code," he said needlessly.  
  
Chloe nodded. "It was the date my mom left us."  
  
She opened the box and looked down at the two dully sparkling jewels laying on the black velvet. "Wow," she exclaimed.  
  
Lex noted that the contents were gems. He had suspected as much. The make of the container and security told him as much. Chloe picked up the gems and revealed that they had been set as a double stone pendant.  
  
"The necklace is beautiful," Lex murmured. "Do you want me to help put it on?"  
  
Chloe gave him the necklace and exposed the nape of her neck. "Thank you." She closed her hand around the stones.  
  
On the other side of town, an Elf came to waking at the sight of a gun trained on him. Legolas slowly sat up, his eyes unwavering on the weapon. Very carefully he stood. Only then did his gaze appraise the older man armed against him and the flame-haired woman whose scent was fear and confusion.  
  
"Who are you?" demanded the armed farmer.  
  
"I am Legolas," the Elf answered simply.  
  
"What are you doing here, son?" the man asked gruffly, when Legolas did not seem threatening.  
  
"I came to use your quarters. I have not rested for nigh on a moon or longer."  
  
"Legolas," the woman said, testing the name. "Poor boy. You must be hungry."  
  
He had none of the weakness of the Followers. Legolas would never die of starvation. Yet for the ages he had tried to adapt to the tradition of those whom he lived with, Legolas had begun to enjoy every ritual. To be called boy by these youth was ludicrous.  
  
"Come, son, don't be scared," the woman said. "I'm Martha and this is my husband Jonathan."  
  
Jonathan lowered his rifle. "We thought there was a wild animal here."  
  
"It is only I."  
  
Martha nodded and approached him, then regarded the crumpled and dusty clothes that Legolas had worn to bed. "That won't do," she judged. "Clark has some of his old clothes here."  
  
A sharp pain that was an impossibility to his race shot through his head. Legolas closed his eyes and listened to his surroundings. The sounds dropped away as he heard the faint echoes of the Silmarils. They have woken from a seemingly interminable sleep with one implication, for only Chiara's hands could so revive the light of the jewels.  
  
He stood up swiftly, so quick that the couple in front of him moved out of the way as he staggered. Martha's eyes were wide as she watched Legolas grasp his head with both hands and tightly close his eyes.  
  
"Son, are you all right?"  
  
As it was not the time or place to be lost in his yesteryears, the Elf forced away the visiting memories and eyed his hosts. "I must have your leave to search."  
  
"What are you looking for, Legolas?" Martha inquired. When she his gray- green eyes, Martha asked, "Who is it? Tell us. We've lived here for a long time; Jonathan all his life. We can help you."  
  
Legolas' heart was filled with great joy at the acquaintance of such Men who were so generous of their help. It seemed to him akin to the days of strife, when Elves and Men were as one People in their fight against Sauron. "I know not the name she takes today."  
  
Jonathan frowned, suspicious at the answer. Martha merely nodded though she did not completely comprehend why the young man would not give the name.  
  
"All right. Well, I will give you some of my son's clothes even if they may be a little big for you. We cannot leave you alone. Come with us. We have somewhere to be this morning. Maybe you will find her in the funeral."  
  
Legolas thought of a burning city and lords and captains piled high and lit. And then his mind painted a cairn in the stillness of Mirkwood his home, adorned by the stillness of a dirge that came from his heart.  
  
"I shall come with you but with one plea, Martha," he replied.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Call me not son or young or boy," Legolas said, "for you can be my offspring countless times over." He climbed down the stairs ahead of the two. 


	6. Part 6

The last of the coffin was covered by soil. The strains of 'Amazing Grace' floated in the air. Chloe closed her eyes and remained still. For a long moment she was no longer there. She was a child. She was crying because of a scuffed knee. Chloe saw her father standing several feet away. In an instant, he was kneeling in front of her, washing her wound with bottled water and calming her down with warm words.  
  
She opened her eyes. Beyond her haze vision she saw the lean figure standing several yards away, right under the large tree. She dried her eyes. When her vision cleared, there was no one under the tree.  
  
Gentle hands squeezed her shoulders as one by one the guests retreated to their cars. "Chloe," Lex whispered close into her ear, "let's go."  
  
"You can leave. I need to be alone."  
  
"You don't have a ride back," Lex replied. When she did not answer, she heard him sigh. The bite of cold metal in her palm that she recognized as his keys raised more questions about Lex's part in this. "I'll catch a ride with someone. Take my car back into town. Hopefully in one piece."  
  
She was then all alone, yet she felt another presence more strongly than before. Chloe was not fond of ghost stories. Instively though she knew this was no ghost.  
  
"Show yourself!" she demanded. Her voice was blown away by the wind.  
  
Chloe focused solely on the tree, convinced that the man hid behind the trunk. She had last seen him in that direction.  
  
"Melethen," he said in a deep voice from behind her. Chloe held her breath and turned slowly around. She beheld the beautiful man who stood there, ill in place clothed in Clark's clothes. "Meldo mo, Chiara."  
  
She was captivated by the intensity of his gaze as he looked at her. He spoke in a strange but familiar language, and not understanding it, she was still lulled into peace.  
  
"I share your pain," he told her, "for you are the other half of my soul."  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"How quickly you forget."  
  
"Who are you?" she repeated.  
  
"The other half of you soul, come to find you, waited thousands of years for you. All roads lead back to you."  
  
~~  
  
"Legolas and Gimli have been here for more days and nights than they have before stayed with us," Arwen said, standing on the veranda, looking down at her Elven friend in the courtyard below as Legolas honed his skills by shooting arrows at points on a wooden wall. It was night time, yet Legolas managed to hit his mark every time.  
  
"Whatever their reasons I am grateful," Aragorn replied to his wife. He laid his hands on her waist. "I fear ill tidings. The mercenaries darken our horizon."  
  
"Yet you do nothing," Arwen said questioningly.  
  
Aragorn sighed. "While they do nothing, there is no justification for us to attack," he told her.  
  
"They do nothing save strike fear in the hearts of our people."  
  
Aragorn met his wife's pleading look with a searching one. Always when he was unsettled in his decision, he could see the answer in the quiet determination of Arwen. He laid his hand on her cheek and read what she did not say in words.  
  
The noise of a clearing throat brought them back to reality. They turned to see Gimli.  
  
"It seems that our stay is drawing to a close," the dwarf pronounced. "Come join me in the throne room. I have many stories to share. Too many adventures and too few days to tell them in!"  
  
Arwen smiled and placed her arm around her husband's. "Well then we must start today."  
  
Gimli let out deep laughter as he followed the couple back into the palace. He looked down and saw Chiara slip into the courtyard. He grinned and pulled on the side of his beard as Chiara made to surprise the Elf, yet ended up the one surprised.  
  
Legolas dropped his bow and turned swiftly around, then caught Chiara by her waist. "I knew not my long road would lead me to you," he murmured. Chiara laid her hands on his shoulders and met his lips with hers.  
  
Had Aragorn caught the courtyard scene, Gimli knew not what shadows would darken Gondor. As he followed Aragorn in, he thought to himself how the Elf owed him this time.  
  
"I forgot my hammer below. I will be with you in a trice!" Gimli called out to them.  
  
In the courtyard, the lovers were oblivious to any eyes that may be watching them. It was unthinkable for an Elf to be so unaware, yet fate favored Legolas that day, with the help of a Dwarf. Perhaps in a day or two he would find out and thank Gimli. At that moment, he was too enthralled by the woman in his arms to care about the world.  
  
"But you regret naught that came to pass?" she asked softly, when they parted for breath.  
  
"Naught that led me to you, Chiara."  
  
She smiled at his words. Chiara felt his fingers tighten in her hair. She closed her eyes and leaned for another kiss. She knew not what good fortune caused him to love her. This was all that she had dreamed, outside of the reality that had been narrated to her as a child. She cared not for the Prince of Rohan, nor for a warm hall and people to oversee. Her heart craved to be overcome with passion and she wanted to see the lands that lay outside of hers. Her will was strong, and she knew that one of the Valar must have given her this strange aberration. She was Mortal but she knew she would not rest until she had done all that she would with Legolas.  
  
"If this is not my secret to tell," came Gimli's voice, causing them to spring apart. "Then you must be more cautious. I barely drew Aragorn and Arwen away from that window before you..." Gimli shrugged. "'Til fast becoming folly, this hiding from the king."  
  
Legolas frowned. "It is no secret that Aragorn would that I have nothing to do with his ward."  
  
"And you can prove this, Legolas?" the dward demanded. "Or are you blinded by your own guilt of betraying your friend that you assume his stand?"  
  
Chiara laid a staying hand on Legolas' arm. "You are right, friend Dwarf," she said. "We shall come before them and plead understanding with thought to their own shared love."  
  
And so it was that the Prince of Mirkwood and the last princess of the Numenorean line, both without kingdoms, without families and without riches now, came together before the King and Queen of Gondor. Gimli had been telling a story about a misadventure that had Aragorn and Arwen laughing. At the sight of the approaching pair, the humor vanished from the king's visage. Aragorn's gaze was immediately drawn to Legolas' arm around his young ward's waist.  
  
Before either spoke, Aragorn asked for audience with the Elf. Gimli jumped off his chair and patted Legolas on the back, then made his way out of the throne room. The king looked at Chiara.  
  
"I will stay," she said firmly.  
  
Arwen stood and took Chiara's arm. "We are not leaving," the queen whispered. "But we will be out of the way." She led her ward to a chair at the side of the room. Arwen turned to Aragorn and Legolas and spoke to them calmly in Elvish, seeking to pacify them.  
  
Chiara watched as Legolas defended himself, though she had no real idea what words were spoken between Aragorn and her love. She knew too little of the language that flew between the two, for they seemed to choose a purer form of Elvish, still Sindarin, yet of words and phrases more ancient for her comprehension.  
  
Finally, the king turned to her and said, "Your fate was sealed by your father long ago, that you be a ward of Gondor and bride of a true kin of its people. Chiara, your lord and husband shall claim you within the moon."  
  
Chiara's stricken eyes went to Arwen. She shook her head. With a longing gaze at Legolas, she turned and fled. Arwen rose to follow her.  
  
Chiara lay in bed, her golden hair fanned out on her pillows, staring up at the ceiling sightlessly. Arwen sat on the side of the bed. She closed her hand around her ward's. Her heart ached at the familiarity of their place. There was no comfort where Chiara was, her heart's daughter.  
  
"Tell me, Arwen, of Finwe and Miriel, most beloved of the Noldor," she whispered. "'Tis but a piece I gleaned from the king's argument with Legolas."  
  
Arwen ran her fingers through Chiara's golden hair. "It was an unfair likening, child, for the curse of the Noldor Elves and the deaths of many of the Elves who remained in Middle-earth stemmed from what had been a beautiful love between them."  
  
"Tell me."  
  
Arwen told Chiara the story of Finwe, host of the Elves on the way to Valinor, who loved Miriel with his undying heart. She told her ward the story of a love so true that Miriel bore the Elf whose spirit held the hottest and most vibrant fire. "Having borne such a son," Arwen said, "Miriel became weak and was taken to Lorien to be healed. And she fell into a healing sleep from which she never woke again. Finwe sat beside her sleeping form, until her spirit flew to the Halls of Mandos. Finwe never forgot her, even as he married and had sons with another."  
  
Aragorn stopped at the doorway, drinking in the sight of his wife comforting their ward. "It is a far longer story of deceit and greed for jewels crafted by Finwe and Miriel's only son."  
  
Chiara turned at the sound of his voice and looked directly into Aragorn's eyes. "The Silmarils. Why liken such a simple thing as my regard for Legolas to jewels that close destroyed their race?"  
  
"You are the last of a proud line of Men, Chiara. Be not angered by my decision."  
  
"The Silmarils," Chiara repeated firmly. "Is this what this is about?"  
  
"No," Arwen answered when Aragorn would not. "He holds falsely to his reason. Thus he seems irrational. In truth, his heart is troubled by more than the line of Numenor. Legolas is close to his heart as a brother, and the king would spare him Finwe's grief."  
  
Chiara asked of Arwen, though her eyes did not leave Aragorn, "Do you regret missing out on the Undying Lands?"  
  
"I will always have place in my heart for my father and my mother, who are happily in the Undying Lands," Arwen answered. Aragorn looked at her. "Yet I will never regret my place with my husband, Chiara. Take away all my years and give me but the sickly mortal years. I will be happy."  
  
Aragorn did not speak, but turned and left. Chiara closed her eyes. A tear rolled down her cheek. Arwen took her daughter in her arms. "You are far luckier in a father than I am," Chiara whispered. 


	7. Part 7

Part 7  
  
Chiara woke up at the height of the moon. Its brilliance flooded into the room. The luxury of her life glowed around her, testament to the fortune that came to her despite the ill fate of her line. All this she owed to Aragorn.  
  
She pushed away the expensive sheets and sat up on her soft, comfortable bed. Arwen slept in the armchair by the window, glorious in motherhood concern for a daughter's pain. Chiara took her blanket and laid it over Arwen's form. It spoke clearly of the king's feelings that night that he allowed his wife to stay out of their own sleeping chambers that night.  
  
Chiara moved quietly, unwilling to disturb Arwen's rest. Chiara walked outside. The corridors were lit with torches, even though there was no one around at that time of night. There was ever only one destination for her when she needed to think. She climbed the stone steps to the parapets.  
  
The wind was cold up there. Even in the summer it was always coldest at that height. Yet always she came back because of the impression of freedom that it gave her. The skies were above her and the land lay before her. Chiara could pretend that she was not in a gilded cage.  
  
She felt him come up behind her. Chiara knew that it was Legolas even before he wrapped a thin shawl around her and teased her ear with a butterfly kiss. "This is why your people are sickly. You forget the simplest protection."  
  
Chiara closed her eyes and leaned back, allowing him to enclose her waist with his arms. "That's because I know you will always remember."  
  
"Well mind your health," he murmured, "because I will be away for a while."  
  
She turned around in his arms, the shawl dropping unnoticed from her shoulders. Chiara frowned at his words. "You're leaving."  
  
Legolas nodded. "At first light to observe the mercenaries' camp. We shall drive them out of the lands."  
  
Chiara had seen the encampment, the weapons. Her heart rebelled at the thought of Legolas going in to the face of danger. Ageless he may be, but his flesh was as vulnerable to swords and spears as any man's.  
  
They started to climb down as they talked, until finally, they were in the garden. They were silent in their embrace, standing under the brilliant tree that would blind the others if they looked. It was their disguise.  
  
"The Elves last fought at Pellinor," she reminded him. "That was the end of any duty you may have had to the king."  
  
"This is a favor," he told her. "When we win, it will be my grace to ask Aragorn for you."  
  
Yet she despaired for she knew that there was no worth that Legolas had not yet proven to the king. Still Aragorn would not have them be together. She did not know what else Legolas could prove to the king with this one deed. Chiara stared at him, eyes liquid as she met his unwavering gaze. "You will always remain beautiful, Legolas," was all she could say. His eyes held questions then. "It's the gift of the First-born," she continued. His eyes cleared as he began to understand where Chiara was taking the conversation. He waited with bated breath for Chiara to say what they have both tried to deny. "You know well why you and I are not the same."  
  
Legolas brushed her cheek with his fingers. "Men will always hold their gift of mortality against us, Chiara. Yet a force more powerful has drawn us together. You are the gift of the Silmarils, ever for me. That is my belief."  
  
"Cursed jewels! I have not seen them yet they loom above my head. Their bloodied tales sunder us, and shall sunder us in my lord guardian's mind."  
  
"They shall bring us together, Chiara," he said firmly.  
  
"Is your faith so strong that your conceit if that we will overcome our births, my king and your Undying Lands?"  
  
"Not my faith or conceit. My love, Chiara, is strong. As is yours." As he said it, his gaze pleaded with her to agree, because he needed to believe it as well.  
  
She thought of the ill-fated legends of Elves and Men. In that moment, she saw her future in his eyes and knew it for its truth. She took his hands and kissed his palms. "Your hands are so pure and beautiful, and will firmly hold your bow. Your keen eyes will help you defend this land. That soon you will be back to me I pray to Eru. However long or short my Mortal life is, let these be the hands that hold me on my last breath." Chiara kissed the tip of each finger. "Let yours be the eyes I see before my endless sleep."  
  
He shook his head and drew her close. "Talk of mortality late in life, Chiara. Your line has the longest lives among all men. I shall show you this land beyond the mountains; take you to Mirkwood my home, which was once Greenwood the Great. If you so please we shall dwell there and cause its prosper much like Elu Thingol and Melian of old."  
  
Chiara had seen her fate, and she accepted it fully. She did not know how, but she knew when. Legolas was leaving, and she may not see him again. She would give him this. "We will restore it to its former glory."  
  
Legolas nodded. "So do not be careless with your safety," he reminded her.  
  
Chiara pointed to the lone star overhead. Legolas look up, and his face became rapt with wonder. "'Tis the lone Silmaril come out for us."  
  
"Almost as if the Valar speak," she murmured. "And they say that we are not as wrong as Aragorn would have us be."  
  
"Almost." Legolas cupped Chiara's face and gazed at her glow under the Silmaril. He swore that the missing two were captured in her eyes. He laid his lips on hers gently, pressing firmer only when she did. He buried his fingers in her golden hair.  
  
"Take this."  
  
Legolas looked down at his palm to see that she had pressed her necklace, with the silver falcon that was her family crest, in his hand.  
  
"The Falcon has been most loyal to the Eagle of Gondor. Keep this to remind you of your vow to Aragorn. Most of all, keep this to remember that you must return to me."  
  
Perhaps for love, Elven vows of friendship were most often broken. Legolas had known two friends in the last age, both honoured warriors of their clans, who loved the same woman. One killed the other then killed himself. Elven friendships did not stand to love and passion.  
  
Legolas was proof unparalleled. For that night, under the Silmaril in the sky, cushioned by green dewy grass and on Aragorn's palace grounds, he took to wife in body and spirit the lady Chiara, betrothed to the lord of Rohan and before that ward of Gondor. On that night and ever she shall be beloved of Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood.  
  
~~  
  
Chloe was captivated by his eyes. He whispered to her, words strange yet familiar. Her eyes fluttered closed. Blindly, she allowed her fingers to run over the planes of his face, lost in the magic he weaved around them.  
  
She opened her eyes and stumbled back. She did not understand why she was glued in front of him, unwilling to scream for help at the presence of this man who claimed to be something as insane as her destined love. She found herself saying, "I have no memory of you." The moment the words were uttered, Chloe knew that she did not say them.  
  
With the strength of her will, Chloe stumbled backwards. "Please go."  
  
Those words she recognized. She phrased them in her mind. Something inside her rebelled from saying them. It was the same undefined part of her that did not want to escape from the presence of this beautiful stranger.  
  
Legolas motioned to the pendants that hung from her neck. "May I?"  
  
Chloe closed her fist tightly around them. Legolas was hit by the force of the jewels throbbing in her hold. Chloe took the necklace off. She dangled it in front of him, an offering. Legolas reached out to touch it.  
  
Lex stood a few feet away, looking at the two. "Chloe, don't!"  
  
The two looked up towards Lex, who stood with the sun behind him.  
  
"Elboron," Legolas said upon seeing him. His skin teased the tip of one. The jewels glowed and suddenly exploded a brilliant blinding white. They captured the sun and reflected the light. 


	8. Part 8

Part 8  
  
It was a connection that began before time as she knew it had begun. Doubtless the almost tangible force that pulsed between them when they first glimpsed the other from afar was older than the sun. And so it was no great mystery that despite her primary instinct to ask him to leave, her true will prevailed and she held out what he had asked from her.  
  
Lex Luthor had been halfway to the parking lot when he felt the undeniable need to turn around. He walked back, up the small hill that overlooked Gabe's resting place. He stood there, under the trees and watched her.  
  
Chloe Sullivan had been looking at the dark earth that covered her father's grave when she looked up. From his vantage point, Lex saw a tall man, creature really, because he was too much of everything to be an ordinary man. There had been a glow that called the eyes to him. The... creature... walked towards Chloe and then to him, before setting his attention on the woman in front of him.  
  
Chloe held out the dull pendants that Gabe had left for Chloe in his keeping. At once, Lex reacted. He jerked and cried for Chloe to snatch the jewels away. Horrified, Lex watched as the slender, flawless hand touched the gems. He rushed forward, only to be blinded by the most brilliant light he had seen.  
  
He forged onward, possessed by the knowledge that this new arrival could not possess the gems. He had not made it several feet down the hill when the light became a veritable physical force that threw him away, off his feet, flying backwards.  
  
"The mercenaries, you fools! You woke the mercenaries and set them on Smallville!" Lex yelled, in a voice much deeper, much stronger, much more forceful than he knew his voice to be.  
  
~~  
  
His lightness allowed the steed to be swift. He saw the group of Gondor's men gathered, standing vanguard, on the cliff where he had first felt Chiara's presence. It seemed so long ago that he had rode towards Gondor, ignorant to the one certainty that the Valar knew. His fate and heart, unbound for the more than two thousand years of his life, lay in the hands of a young woman whose only desire was to fly free of the boundaries set by people who loved her. He set his heart against the mercenaries laying in wait below. His fight with them was his fight to rip the borders that fenced Chiara, in order to ground himself, chain his heart willingly and promise his wandering eyes on only one sun.  
  
The captain of Gondor raised his hand in acknowledgment of the presence of the illustrious Elf. "Maethor Legolas," the captain called out, for all soldiers knew the Elven warrior.  
  
"Tell me, Gwador, where I can be of help," Legolas responded.  
  
"We need scouts for the western slope," the captain said. "I shall gather a few men to go with you."  
  
"Send them after me. I shall go apace."  
  
The weakness of a warrior that Legolas had scoffed at before was the division of his focus. It caused Aragorn's fall in Rohan before, where he had been struck by Eowyn's profession and Arwen's whispers in his dreams. To Legolas, such was foolishness. Once a warrior enters a battle or a hostile area, he was empty save from gell, the spirit of triumph.  
  
It was triumph that would lead him back to her waiting arms, to vanish once again as an individual and resurface as part of a whole. He could still see her face, haloed by her golden hair, brilliant with the light of the Silmarils in her eyes.  
  
He came back to full alertness to see himself surrounded by Easterlings, mercenaries of the east. He cursed his wayward thoughts and sat up straighter on his horse. The mercenaries all trained the sharp tips of their swords towards him, and should he move left or right, he knew that the horse's flesh would be shredded on the unmerciful weapons. The horse would throw him into the very center of the enemy camp.  
  
From a distance he heard the powerful neigh of the horse, and one by one, from the backs of the lines the mercenaries fell. Legolas took the chance to jump down from his steed. Swifter than the blink of an eye, Legolas drew his bow and arrows on the men, felling one after the other until there were so few that he allowed them to run.  
  
Legolas was left in the clearing with the man who saved his life. Too cautious and too incensed at his carelessness, he did not put down the bow and arrow. The man who saved him pulled away his helmet that Legolas recognized as Rohan. He would have known this man anywhere, if only by stories of the prince of Rohan who before any battle sheared off his hair.  
  
"I am Elboron, man of Rohan." Elboron sheathed his sword and strode forward. "Legolas of Mirkwood, it has been my pleasure to fight with you."  
  
Legolas rebelled at the presence of the Rohan prince, for he knew why Elboron was in those parts. Yet the man saved his life, even if Legolas could have well taken down all the mercenaries. He grasped the man's arm in gratitude.  
  
"Once you saved my land, Elf. I save now your life in repayment."  
  
''Then you have done your part.''  
  
"No." Elboron gave him a grim smile. "I shall forever be in your debt. As Lord of Rohan, I vow to aid you, hope only to save your life in times the number of the thousands of my people whose lives were spared through your prowess and stealth. The sword of Elboron, son of Faramir, is sworn to you. Command me as you will."  
  
And Legolas knew the power of such gratitude in an honorable man. Heavily his unlearned side was tempted to have the prince slit his own throat and mix his blood with the mercenaries'. His faith in his love was strong, he told himself. Instead of what he desired to say, Legolas spoke, "You are young. I dare not command you for fear that I betray my honor."  
  
"Then I will go to the King of Gondor. By your leave." Legolas nodded. "If you perchance have need of help, you know that my sword is yours."  
  
Elboron left, and there was a great shout heard from below. He quickly drew his sword and turned back. He was about to run back into the fray. Legolas stood with his bow to the stampeding mercenaries. When Elboron ran, Rohan men arrived and surrounded him, his shield and protection.  
  
"The Elf!" he shouted to his men. "Save the Elf," was his command, for he had been trained by his mother and father to look up to the First-born who had a hand in freeing his people.  
  
"Prince Elboron, you must take cover," yelled the captain of Rohan. "Please."  
  
Elboron shrugged Faramir's men violently away. He shoved his way out until he burst from the line. "I am a fighter in my own right," he bit out. He ran towards where he had last seen the Elf, to find that the space had cleared of anyone standing. "We will charge the camp in an hour. Prepare yourselves!"  
  
The captain grabbed Elboron's arm. "Prince, you know that this is foolishness."  
  
"We must save the Elf."  
  
"Let us proceed to Gondor where we were heading before. You must take your betrothed to wife. It is the most logical move, so we may raise more arms against these trespassers. You know the King of Gondor will fight for his brother."  
  
Elboron trusted the captain that his father had elected. He wanted to charge then and retrieve the Elf, yet he knew that the captain was right. He had too much passion to make war. He was known across the land as the blood fighter, for her saw nothing when he charged, and fought by instinct, not calculation. It was something he would force himself to learn. Finally, he agreed.  
  
When he took the reigns of a horse that was handed to him, Elboron looked down and saw a glint of silver on the ground. He frowned and picked up a silver falcon hanging from a chain.  
  
~~  
  
Lex lay on the moist grass, facedown. Gasping hard, trying to catch his breath, he turned his head and opened his eyes. All he could see was the blinding white. His ear was pressed on the ground, and he could hear every thud of every foot, every squeal of every wheel, every throb of the earth.  
  
Ultimately, the sounds that were natural to his world erupted into nothingness, and Lex heard a far more terrible series of grunts and roars, or large feet thumping on the ground as they crushed all that lay underneath.  
  
Out there, beyond the blindness that he was given, he knew that two souls merged in the most intricate way, without words or movement. Together joined by two dulled gems that were now the brightest on earth, jewels that he unknowingly gave to Chloe. Now he regretted the move, for all the reasons the jewels were entrusted to him flooded back.  
  
Too late. Lex stared unseeing at the never ending emptiness.  
  
The mercenaries had come.  
  
~~  
  
Her tears were silent and steady as she watched the prince of Rohan give her necklace to Aragorn. From the top of the steps she could not hear the words exchanged between the men, and even if she were near, Chloe knew she would not have heard them for the roaring in her ears.  
  
Stricken, she ran to the top of the castle and faced the direction that she knew the cliff was located. Fervently, she prayed for the Valar to grant her grace. Chiara called to the Maiar, back to the first Maiar who dared love Eru's child, to bless her when she was an adaneth who gave her heart to an Elf.  
  
Chiara felt the brush of warm hands as they clasped the necklace around her neck. Her tears fell at the familiar heaviness on her breast. "He is not perished," she insisted.  
  
"My men and I shall take him home," Aragorn promised. "But you know in your heart what clemency lies in the hands of these mercenaries."  
  
She noted the blood redness of the rising sun. "Blood will be spilled," she said aloud. "If it has not been spilled."  
  
For the first time in the years that she had been his daughter, Aragorn took her into his arms. "Chiara, do not stop your tears. Weep for him." He wiped away the moisture on her face. "I will not urge you tonight to forget what fancy you shared with Legolas. Face your lord and husband tomorrow then," he said. "Tonight, Gondor grieves."  
  
Aragorn cleared his throat. He carefully moved away.  
  
"It pains me so, my lord Aragorn," Chiara murmured, "that a warrior so great as Legolas should fall on a quest to prove his worth to a man who should be well aware of it."  
  
The king stiffly walked away and entered the castle. When he knew that he was in an isolated place of his own home, Aragorn let out a cry. As graceful and silent as she always had been, he never heard his wife slip into the room. He looked up to see her looking at him sadly. Aragorn buried himself in her arms.  
  
"Not to be hurt when the mortal dies, Arwen," Aragorn said. "It was a simple wish for a brother."  
  
"You wanted to give him what you could not give me," Arwen said softly, running her fingers on his cheeks. "Yet you could not understand, Aragorn, that you want to give him safety that he did not want. Just as I do not want you to protect me from losing you. Loving and losing is part of who we are."  
  
The king did not answer, for at that moment, though he was the most powerful man in Middle-earth, Aragorn was also the most vulnerable. 


	9. Part 9

Part 9  
  
Chloe felt the terrible rush of cold inside her body. For several moments it seemed that an icy fluid pulsed through her body. Then slowly, the coldness seeped out of her skin and a burning sensation coursed through her nerves. Soon she would scream from the pain and not understand, for standing in front of her was the greatest joy in her recollection.  
  
Legolas allowed the jewels to slip out of his hands. Now on the halo between her breasts, the most magnificent gems lay. Gone was the dull glimmer that covered it when Lex gave them to her. The gems vied with the brilliance of the sun.  
  
"Run!" came the shout from Lex.  
  
Chloe looked back at the man she would not really call friend. Lex Luthor pulled himself up and knelt, then slowly staggered to his feet. She frowned at the stance that he took. He longer had the fluid movements of the billionaire. It almost appeared that Lex was brusque, medieval. She glanced at Legolas and read how comprehension dawned in his eyes.  
  
Legolas took Chloe's arm and pulled her to stand behind him. He held out his slender arm in a gesture warding off the approaching man.  
  
"Elboron," he said firmly, "Chiara nin herbess, nin meleth uluithiad."  
  
Lex's eyes narrowed at Legolas. He held out his hand. "It's past, Elf. And there are so many things wrong with what you've said. She is not your wife."  
  
Chloe's eyes widened. She clutched at Clark's shirt on Legolas. Lex Luthor had gone insane, to respond to another name. And then she wondered if she had not gone insane that deep inside she believed that she was indeed an unquenched love. When did she start understanding strange words?  
  
"You should not have touched the Silmaril. Now it will all happen again. You can still stop it. Give them to me," Lex demanded.  
  
"Let them come," Legolas responded. "I will not let her go."  
  
Lex's tight face softened at the Elf's words. Slowly, he said, "You knew that the gems would call me back if you touched it. You knew that the last war would shatter this future world. You had all my respect before, Legolas. Why?"  
  
Chloe noticed the change in Lex, yet another in the series of changes he had undergone since the morning. She stepped beside Legolas and looked at Lex. This was not the man who gave her the jewels this morning. This was the transformed Lex who stood up after the brilliance of the Silmarils threw him. Yet he did not have the shuttered expression that he had when he approached them. He seemed almost young, with a hero-worship no one found in Lex Luthor's face.  
  
"Unending ages, Elboron," Legolas answered, "and immortality are a curse without her touch. Let this be my selfishness. I have given too much and taken too little, after all."  
  
Chloe placed her hand on Legolas' shoulder. The Elf closed his over it and kissed her palm.  
  
"You show your flaw," Lex told him.  
  
Not taking his eyes off Chloe's, Legolas said, "Happily."  
  
Lex nodded in understanding. "Then we fight."  
  
Around them, the earth shook and the ground erupted. In a wide circle, fists punched open the soil until large muscular arms surfaced. Weaponless, two ancient warriors and one young woman watched the mercenaries climb up from underground. Their war cry bellowed through Smallville's peaceful air.  
  
~~  
  
She was swathed in black from head to foot. Chiara's gown was of trailing raven silk, unadorned by beads or jewels. The material stood in stark contrast to her pale skin. Unwilling to let the sun touch places that Legolas' lips had touched, Chiara fastened the black veil to her hair. The veil fell over her face and dragged on the castle floor.  
  
Arwen sat on her bed, her eyes moist at the sight of her daughter. She had asked Chiara if she would be bed, and her daughter did not speak. Since the night that the long box on Chiara's bed arrived, her daughter had not spoken. Arwen's gaze flickered quickly to the golden contents.  
  
Chiara turned away from the full-length mirror on her wall and walked over to Arwen. She knelt in front of the Elven woman and briefly laid her head on Arwen's lap. And then Chiara stood again and kissed her forehead through the black veil.  
  
The silent movements broke Arwen's heart. Chiara's once vibrant eyes were dead. The young woman reached for the box on her bed and lifted the shorn long golden hair from its velvet bed.  
  
Arwen remembered Gwador bursting through the doors bearing the box of Legolas' hair during dinner. Aragorn's face was mottled with anger and grief. Chiara stood up so quickly that her chair had toppled over. She ran to Aragorn's side and touched the strands. She had fallen to her knees. Arwen had taken her daughter to her bed and hummed to soothe her. When the next morning she woke, Chiara never spoke again.  
  
Chiara clutched the lock to her cheek, almost as if it were his hand. And then she pressed a kiss on it and placed it back in the box. She covered the box almost carefully, then gently placed it on her bed again.  
  
Chiara opened the door and walked silently out. Arwen followed behind her. Aragorn and Elboron waited outside, on top of the steps where Aragorn had been crowned king. Arwen saw her husband's face when their daughter appeared. He extended his hand to lead her to Elboron, as custom. Chiara walked past the king, unseeing.  
  
The ceremony was grave and silent. The people still mourned their loss, and the mercenaries edged closer by the second. The tree of Numenor showered them with its white fragrant flowers. The flowers did not penetrate Chiara's veil. Elboron took Chiara in his arms and touched her veil to lift it. She quickly moved to hold it against herself.  
  
Elboron quietly nodded and gave her the sealing kiss through the thin cloth. He faced the people with his new bride and announced, "My friends, this is my wife Chiara, Black Lady of Rohan."  
  
The cheers were muted; the applause hesitant.  
  
Aragorn embraced Elboron to welcome him into the family. He looked at his daughter, who averted her gaze. To the people, he said, "The blood oath is fulfilled with the joining of Gondor and Rohan. Now it is time to rally all our forces against the mercenaries. Light all beacons!"  
  
And the cheers were loud and strong. 


	10. Part 10

Part 10  
  
His hair, now severed unevenly, fell around his sore face. Legolas struggled against the bonds that held him to the post. For days on end he was moved place to place on camp, and he was certain that it was more to keep his presence secret. The mercenaries marched on, with him hidden inside dingy tents.  
  
On the long nights that he was left on the open field, bound to the unmoving wooden stake, Legolas' only sanctuary was inside him. In the cold, he retreated into memories of warm breath on his skin and a pliant body pressed on dewy grass. Surrounded by hostile men of the East who fought not for glory or honor but for gold, Legolas called to mind a perfect glowing face, a vibrant smile and sparkling eyes. If he should surrender his immortal life, it would be in exchange for one mortal day back in Chiara's embrace.  
  
"One lifetime for a kiss," he promised himself. "It would be enough."  
  
Legolas closed his eyes and called to all the powers for one strike of miracle to sunder the ropes that held his arms behind him. "Ten thousand years for one second," he bargained with the Valar. He shook his head and admitted then, "But one touch and I will need her forever."  
  
Before he was dragged into camp, he had wondered about her fascination with the camp. He doubted if she even knew the particular reason. She was drawn to watch the camp. She rationalized this by an expression of fear, that she dreaded the coming of the mercenaries for the plunder of her home. Stepping into the sphere of the camp, Legolas knew why.  
  
He felt the power of the Silmarils as if they were balls of fire surrounding him. The jewels would bring them together. He had promised it to Chiara unknowing of the measure of truth it would hold. The mystical power of the gems held the destinies of the many children of Eru. They were no exception.  
  
From a distance Legolas saw the black night light up with explosions of light. Gondor's sky danced with merry fireworks. For the first time in his long life, Legolas pulsed red with fury at the sight, for she knew what it stood for. Rohan and Gondor were one. Chiara was wed.  
  
Inside the halls of the grand City of Kings, lights were extinguished. Servants passed through one corridor very silently. In bed, the Lord Elboron kissed turned to the young woman who lay beside him on the bed.  
  
"'Tis a relief to be finally united," he began. "This was a dream that long needed fulfillment."  
  
Chiara did not open her eyes. Elboron knew from the flicker of her lashes that she was still awake. Very slowly, he reached for her hair and brushed a lock away from her face. "Chiara, you will love my land. There is a cave on the foot of a hill where the princes of Rohan are buried. Outside there are mounds of earth crowned by white flowers beyond number," he described, his voice low and soothing.  
  
"My lady mother is the White Lady of Rohan. I have been told that you would often slip outside. There in Rohan you can ride free over the hills. The horses we breed are the best in Middle Earth."  
  
She turned her head away, no longer pretending sleep. A tear seeped from the corners of her eyes.  
  
"Chiara, tell me why you have no light about you."  
  
Elboron touched her cheek, and she flinched. He leaned over hers and kissed her tears away. "You are my wife," he said. "I will change what you dislike."  
  
His hand slipped to cradle her nape. His other hand ran over her shoulders and on the décolletage of her gown. Very slowly, he placed a kiss on her chin, down to her collarbone. She was fragrant, heady. Elboron thought that this must be how Valinor felt like.  
  
Her stifled sob stopped his actions.  
  
Elboron sighed and murmured, "Sleep well, Chiara." Defeated, he turned his back on his new wife.  
  
~~  
  
"The castle!" Chloe cried, as she eyed the emerging figures. "It's the safest refuge now." Unconsciously she grabbed Legolas' arm. "We have to go."  
  
Legolas wrapped his arm around her waist and held her close as they rushed to the only direction from where no mercenaries seemed to struggle their way out of the earth. Elboron frowned and ran after them. "Have you gone daft?" he yelled after the two. "It's ages past our time. Minas Tirith has long since diminished!"  
  
Chloe looked back at Lex, who was eerily transformed into another man while maintaining the appearance of the Luthor son. "Just run! There is a castle here."  
  
Chloe's lips parted when she noticed the small dot of dirty yellow fast approaching and revealing itself to be Clark Kent's truck. She ran even faster and waved her arms.  
  
"Chiara, you call attention to yourself!" Legolas reminded her.  
  
"We need to hitch a ride," she answered.  
  
Legolas looked at Elboron for clarification, but the prince seemed as oblivious to her meaning as he was.  
  
"Clark," she cried. "Clark!"  
  
She sighed in relief when the truck stopped in front of them. Clark reached across the seat to open the door. "I was worried about you two when you didn't come after a half hour," he told Chloe. And then he noticed the presence of another man, who seemed awfully close to his friend. "Anything I don't know about?" Chloe noticed where he was looking. "An old acquaintance?"  
  
"You could say that," she replied with a brief smile. "Clark, we need to get out of here."  
  
"Hop on," Clark said, pushing his glasses up on his nose. Chloe and Legolas squeezed in the backseat. "Lex, you ride shotgun."  
  
Elboron's eyebrows furrowed and looked at Legolas who was no help. Clark saw the brown figures behind Lex, getting closer, shedding the soil that coated their bodies. "What the hell are those?"  
  
"Clark, gas!"  
  
The terrifying sight grew clearer and clearer. Clark reached for Lex by his upper arms and dragged him into truck. "Shut the door!" he commanded. That, Elboron was quick to understand and follow. Clark sped away from the cemetery.  
  
Halfway down the road to the castle, about a dozen of the grimy bulging mercenaries blocked the way. Elboron muttered a Sindarin curse and glanced at Legolas.  
  
"This contraption is for cowards," the prince said of the truck. "We are warriors. We must wage war on these barbarians!"  
  
Legolas nodded curtly. Chloe tightened her arms around him. "You will not face them," she said. "Not again."  
  
Legolas fisted his hands. "Elboron speaks rightly, Chiara. 'Tis our sworn duty." He closed his hand around Clark's shoulder. "Do you have a bow and arrows that I may use?"  
  
"Uhhh... not exactly," Clark stammered. His eyes met Chloe's on the rearview mirror, seeming to ask, 'What is this?'  
  
Legolas shook his head. "A sword then. Do you have yours, Elboron?"  
  
Lex, or the prince rather, reached for his side and looked surprised. "My trusty sword did not travel here with me." He felt something in his pocket and slipped his hand inside. He then drew out a black leather wallet. "What use is this?" he demanded.  
  
"That's Lex Luthor's weapon," Chloe informed him. She caught Clark's eyes on her again. "We are going to get killed."  
  
Clark stared at her for the space of a few seconds then tightened his jaw. "Not if I can help it." Then, Clark slammed out of the truck and strode towards the line of mercenaries. To Chloe's amazement, he fought with the earth warriors with bare hands and threw them one by one.  
  
"A warrior that fights without weapons," Elboron commented. "I am inferior to no future man. I too shall fight." He pushed his shoulder against the door. It did not open. Once again, he pushed.  
  
Legolas kissed Chloe's cheek. "I will keep you safe," he vowed. Chloe smiled and reached around him to open the door. When he got down and joined the melee, she also helped Elboron open his.  
  
In no time, the half dozen mercenaries lay unconscious on the side of the road. Chloe watched from inside the truck as the three dusted themselves off. Finally, her eyes settled on Legolas as he straightened and looked back at her. Very slowly, a smile softened the planes of his face. With the setting sun behind him, he had a beautiful glow that brought moments of peace to mind.  
  
The three walked back to the truck. They climbed in easily. "Hmmm," Clark grunted. Chloe looked up to where Clark was staring and saw several dozens of mercenaries also approaching. He floored the gas and assured Chloe, "You will spend your entire life explaining this to me." 


	11. Part 11

AN: Thanks to everyone still reading the fic. As per request, I will clarify what the Silmarils were. The Silmarils were jewels created by Feanor, one of the earliest Elves in creation. He took the light of the Trees of Valinor and captured it inside those gems. When the Trees were corrupted after a battle with the Dark Lord Morgoth, the light was forever gone except for the ones in those jewels. Everyone wanted those jewels, even the Valar. The jewels caused the Elves to leave Valinor and return to Middle-earth. The jewels became cursed because they were the indirect cause of the Kinslaying, when Elves killed Elves.  
  
Part 11  
  
Chloe warmed herself in front of the fire of the castle. She had been stunned to see Clark fight off the mercenaries with bare hands. In fact, most of the events that happened today shocked her. It was not enough that her father was buried today. There were so many revelations that would have rendered her speechless had she not undergone an emotional transformation that was beyond a rational person's comprehension.  
  
Today, she woke up Chloe Sullivan, haunted by dreams and nightmares, an orphaned young woman whose only wish was to heal from the wounds of losing a parent. She had planned to attend her father's funeral and then leave, make an effort to live her life elsewhere so that she would not have to remember every day.  
  
And then he came from the shadows and stepped into the light, and somehow deep inside her the dark crevices were no longer as dark. This Legolas, who claimed he was no man, was still a stranger for she did not know most of what he said. Yet if he were a stranger, then she accepted that perhaps there was an intangible past behind every two people who existed in the world. Chloe would look at the tall, blonde creature and know that everything inside her she had given to him; and he had reciprocated. She did not deny this. All that mattered now was finding recollections of exactly when it was that they became possessions of the other's soul.  
  
When Lex Luthor changed, Chloe sensed part of what mystery shrouded Legolas come over Lex. She envied the man. Lex seemed to know everything, unlike Chloe who clutched at vague teasing images in her mind. Beside Legolas Chloe did not seem to care as much about answers. With him, the only need she felt was to hold him, touch him, kiss him. If she were to have any real answers she had to go to one who could give them, to the one in whose presence she could still think.  
  
As hard as it was for her to leave Legolas with Clark, Chloe managed to step beside Lex in front of the fireplace. Legolas was watchful. After this she would sit with him and show him that she was still inexplicably his.  
  
Chloe looked up at Lex Luthor, who was no longer quite himself. "Elboron," she said, as he called himself, "I feel that there's so much I need to know."  
  
"Do you remember the last time we were together?"  
  
She shook her head sadly. "I don't remember anything."  
  
He frowned in disapproval. "Yet you clutched at him as if he were your lifeline," he charged.  
  
"I feel like he is," she told him faintly. Elboron stared at her. He touched her cheek and Chloe saw Legolas rise from his seat. "Tell me, Elboron, in this lifetime that you remember so well. Was I yours?"  
  
He shook his head. "For all the hours we were wed, you were never mine."  
  
With his words she understood the exchange between the two men in the cemetery. She wondered how it was that her reaction to Legolas was immediate while she did not have the same feeling towards this man who was her husband.  
  
"Maybe if Legolas had not been there, I would have loved you."  
  
He smiled grimly at her. "Yet there was." Lex gazed at where Legolas stood watching them. "The most important lesson, Chiara, for a man who struggled in Middle-earth, is that you do not wish for things that can never be." Chloe met Legolas' gaze. "You were fated. Had I known I would not have taken to you to wife."  
  
Chloe walked towards the beloved stranger who she knew would dominate the rest of her life. How she wished that she could remember all of it. From all she could gather, it seemed to be such a fine love, what existed between Chiara and Legolas. Chloe feared she would forever live in the shadows of that sublime.  
  
"He did not love me," she assured Legolas.  
  
Legolas saw the dim light that shrouded Elboron when the prince watched Chloe lay her head on Legolas' chest. The prince turned his back on them and faced the fire again. Elboron's light grew dimmer.  
  
His thoughts were brought out of Elboron's diminishing light and back to the problem at hand when Clark asked, "What do we do about the grimy warriors outside?"  
  
"They are not warriors," Legolas told him. "They are undeserving of the name. They are mercenaries."  
  
"Fine," Clark agreed. "What do we do about them? They're just a bit anachronistic." He flipped on the television set. "And they're violent."  
  
Even Elboron turned back to the conversation as the apparatus showed the destruction that the mercenaries were causing. The town itself was being attacked. They saw the general store windows shattered. The Talon burned in front of their eyes.  
  
"There is one way to stop them. You need to give me the Silmarils."  
  
"No!" was Legolas' vehement reply. "I did not wait ages for you to take her away."  
  
"I will not take her," Elboron said. "But returning the Silmarils to their guardian will balance our universe. All that do not belong here will return to its proper place."  
  
Clark nodded. Both men had opposite ends. "Chloe?"  
  
She shook her head. "No, Clark."  
  
"All right. I'll take care of it."  
  
Clark stalked out of the room, on his way to town to fight the mercenaries who did not belong in Smallville.  
  
Elboron walked towards the wall, where one of Lionel's collections hung. He ripped the black metal sword down and balanced it in his hands. He gripped the handle and faced the lovers. "I will ignore the futility and honor you."  
  
Legolas gently released Chloe. "There's a decision we will have to make."  
  
"Clark will kill them all."  
  
"With every mercenary that we defeat, two more shall spring from the earth until this world is crawling with evil," he told her. "The shadows of Mordor will darken the world until the Silmarils are returned."  
  
He leaned to kiss her tears away.  
  
~~  
  
The Black Lady of Rohan sat upon a white mare that once belonged to the Elven prince of Mirkwood. She ran her fingers slowly down the mare's neck to calm her. She watched the two troops of fighters as they prepared to overwhelm the mercenaries. To the right, Aragorn's soldiers of Gondor yelled their battle cry. To the left, Elboron and the Rohan warriors cried the same. Chiara never thought that she could watch war feeling indifferent. Now, she simply did not care who perished in battle.  
  
A soft hand touched her shoulder. Arwen spoke so calmly that for a moment, Chiara almost forgot that she was not supposed to feel. "Chiara, your heart still beats even if you do not feel it."  
  
Yet what hurt her then was that she could feel her heart. Inside her heart was tremendous pain that close to numbed her.  
  
The battle commenced below them. Mercenaries, Rohan and Gondor melted together in one blood-filled encounter that made widows and orphans of thousands. She watched dispassionately as the sun shone down on the second sons of Eru slaying each other for land and treasures.  
  
There were Elves or Dwarves in battle. There were no Wizards or Hobbits. The fight was now inside the race of Men. The last Elf to join was Legolas. Mirkwood fighters formed a line behind Arwen and Chiara, primed to defend Elrond's daughter.  
  
"We had seen Prince Legolas," a chief warrior had told Arwen, "in the mystic pool of the forest kingdom. He had taken his heart's bride. His death was not we expected to arrive to."  
  
The Black Lady of Rohan retreated deeper inside her black shroud.  
  
A warrior rode out of the fray and raced towards Arwen and Chiara. Elboron took off his helmet and stopped before his bride. He lifted a blood-stained glove and held out the two Silmarils. He looked at the Elves behind the ladies.  
  
"Elboron of Rohan claims guardianship of jewels of Valinor," he told them. The Elves of Mirkwood nodded in acceptance. They had learned their lesson. The Silmarils were too powerful to possess. Elboron handed the gems to Chiara.  
  
She reached for the jewels and held them in her hands. Elboron returned into battle. Arwen and the Mirkwood Elves dropped from her vision as she beheld the beauty of the Silmarils. Lost tales had before told of the Silmarils' beauty being enough to drive Men and Elves alike insane. Chiara heard and saw Legolas in her memory.  
  
Legolas brushed her cheek with his fingers. "Men will always hold their gift of mortality against us, Chiara. Yet a force more powerful has drawn us together. You are the gift of the Silmarils, ever for me. That is my belief."  
  
"Cursed jewels! I have not seen them yet they loom above my head. Their bloodied tales sunder us, and shall sunder us in my lord guardian's mind."  
  
"They shall bring us together, Chiara," he said firmly.  
  
Now the cursed jewels lay sparkling in her hand. If the Silmarils were truly so powerful, then they had one final great deed to perform. They had to bring them together, as Legolas had promised.  
  
With a swift kick to the side of the mare, Chiara rode towards the edge of the cliff. Below, the sea parted Middle-earth from Erresea. She breathed in the salty breeze and looked behind her. Arwen was fast gaining on her, as were the Elves. She clutched the Silmarils to her heart and dismounted. Chiara closed her eyes and let herself fall.  
  
tbc 


	12. Part 12 Epilogue

Thanks very much to your readers and reviewers out there!  
  
Part 12  
  
The burden of the warrior that he dragged away from the fighting was not so heavy compared to all the Elf's brave deeds. Prince Elboron of Rohan mightily clasped Legolas close as he sought to evade the pursuers. He heaved the weak warrior in the direction of his people, so that the mercenaries hot at their tail would encounter the enclave of Rohan warriors and fall beneath their feet.  
  
"A moment, Legolas," he vowed to the Elf, "and you shall meet the safety of the camp."  
  
Legolas swallowed dryly, for his throat had not been blessed with water for many nights. The uneven cropped hair was dirty and a hindrance as he looked up at Elboron's promised land, eager to once more set his eyes on the woman who made him want to live after his defeat and during his capture. At once, he was anxious to touch her, to see if marriage to a Man had changed her and her love for him. What to tell her when his broken form falls at her feet, and her husband his savior stands proudly close by?  
  
Despite the soreness of his muscles, Legolas pushed on with the prince's help, upward, upward where Chiara was certain to be. At the camp, they were surrounded by soldiers who hailed Elboron's deed and Legolas' return. As Legolas had suspected, he fell at once to the dusty ground, exhausted. The Rohans parted to make way for the approaching figure of a Gondor fighter. When the Gondor pulled his helmet off, Legolas saw Aragorn, the king, his brother.  
  
"Muindor!" the king exclaimed, and fell onto his knees in front of Legolas. "Brother."  
  
Legolas received the welcoming embrace. A few seconds later, he pulled away to study the king. "Brother."  
  
Aragorn helped Legolas back to his feet. For a moment, the Elf was unsteady. Then, the two faced Elboron. Aragorn clasped the prince's arm in gratitude. At first reluctant, Legolas then shook Elboron's hand. "Twice now you've saved my life."  
  
"My lord!"  
  
The reunion was broken when a host of Elves rode hard towards them. The men looked up and saw Arwen with the Mirkwood Elves. Aragorn walked towards them and helped his wife dismount. Legolas read the sorrow in Arwen's eyes.  
  
"Where?" Legolas asked.  
  
Elboron frowned at him without comprehension. "What is it?"  
  
It was as if energy flooded him inside. Legolas took Lady Arwen's mare and leaped onto its back.  
  
"My lord Elboron," said an Elf, "the Silmarils have taken from us once more. Your lady wife has fallen into the Sea, no doubt at the cursed jewels' bidding."  
  
"Chiara," Elboron whispered. He followed suit after Legolas.  
  
When he had arrived at that side of Gondor that faced the Sea, it was to find Legolas dismounting his horse. The Elf moved with no hesitation. As surely as Legolas drew his arrows, he stood at the edge of the cliff and looked down. Elboron's heart shattered as he understood his bride, and the once brilliant fighter who fell to the enemy in such short a time.  
  
He stopped a few paces away from Legolas and warned, "'Twill change nothing!" Elboron waited for Legolas to turn around and acknowledge his presence. Instead, he heard the Elf's strained voice in his mind.  
  
'The Eldar sees in another's eyes if they were wed before even Arda was created. She is my soul, in this life and until I pass back into the company of the Valar. Without her, what for is an Immortal life?'  
  
Elboron watched immobile as the Elf jumped the endless expanse and vanished into the Sea.  
  
~~  
  
With every passing second in her care, the Silmarils grew ever brighter and ever hotter. The heat from the gems started to scald her palms. Still, she clutched them tightly. If the pain meant Legolas will remain with her, she would endure it.  
  
She stared out of the large windows of the Luthor castle and watched as black smoke rose in the horizon. "Smallville burns," Chloe said softly.  
  
Legolas wrapped his arms around her from behind. "I am heartfully sorry."  
  
"Why would you be sorry?" she asked. "You're here. You didn't burn down the town."  
  
"I am aware of how much it hurts you. Your one desire was to never see your home burn the way your childhood home did."  
  
Chloe closed her eyes. She did not remember an occasion when she spoke those words. Certainly because Legolas was speaking about Chiara. Inside though, she understood what he meant. Perhaps in that deep untouched part of her, Chiara still existed. Definitely the almost insane devotion that Chiara had for Legolas remained. Around him, she was torn in two. She did not know anymore who she was really. Could she be two people at once?  
  
Legolas whispered into her ear, "Be brave, melethen. If we are the cause of this, we watch."  
  
Chloe opened her tear-filled eyes and clutched the jewels so tightly they cut her skin. People were dying and home were being destroyed by rough men who did not even belong in her time. "They have to be sent back."  
  
She felt Elboron's presence behind them. "Then you must return the Silmarils to me. By their power I shall restore our universes. Those who belong in the past shall be sent to the past."  
  
She felt Legolas' lips on her temple, his silent message that he would leave the decision up to her. Chloe released the jewels and let them hang between her breasts. She turned around and wrapped her arms around him. The Silmarils burned their skin. "I surrender them," she whispered into his chest. "I'll wait for you in the Halls of Mandos."  
  
"Then I would welcome the first weapon that should pierce my heart in battle," he said. Legolas slowly unfastened the chain from her neck and held the Silmarils aloft. He met Elboron's gaze above Chloe's head. He handed the gems to the warrior in Lex's body.  
  
The prince of Rohan, Guardian of the Silmarils who took his wife, closed his hand around the jewels and pronounced, "All shall be as fate willed."  
  
Chloe's embrace on Legolas grew tighter. Into her ear, he whispered strange comforting words that told her in a dead language how she was his heart's bride, his north star, his self-same soul. Slowly, he disappeared until she was left clutching air. She felt herself grow faint with grief.  
  
Elboron took her by her elbows and led her towards the couch. "It's done. I too shall return and leave to this time the man I displaced." He sat her down and kissed her forehead. "Fare well, my sweet wife," he told her. "We could have had a life of such bounty, such beauty."  
  
Her last sight before she drifted off was that the gray specks in his eyes were slowly vanishing, replaced by Lex's familiar blue. Chloe lost all consciousness of the world around her until there was nothing but darkness...  
  
And then her breath constricted. A tight pressure around her pushed her downward. She fought for control of her own body but found herself drowning. A vise closed around her waist and then there was that faint light overhead. Slowly, she flew up towards it. The liquid around her moved, sliding against her body in all directions.  
  
The smoothness became abrasions when she found herself being dragged to rough and rocky ground. Chloe felt pounding on her chest and back. A warm mouth closed over her own, forcing her to take in air until she was so full of it she coughed up water.  
  
She opened her eyes to find them looking down at her—those wonderful intense eyes. He was back. Chloe threw her arms around Legolas and sobbed. "I thought I'd lost you!" she rasped.  
  
Legolas buried his face in the crook of her neck. "No more," he promised. "I will not lose you to the prince. Married or not. Aragorn or not. I will not leave you with Elboron!"  
  
She held him tightly and chose not to analyze what he had said. Chloe just needed to feel him and know that giving up the Silmarils did not take him away as she had thought. After what to her mind was hours, she felt the chill of the sea breeze on her wet gown. Only then did she pull away to look at her surroundings. She was on a very rocky shore beside a vast sea. Legolas, who loomed above her, had shorn hair and torn clothes.  
  
"What happened?" As the words left her lips, she was hit by memories of a night when she received his golden hair. It was an end. "What's going on? What happened to me?"  
  
"You are distressed," Legolas calmed her. Chloe searched his eyes and knew that while this was the same man who claimed her in Smallville, this Legolas had not yet undergone the thousand ages of waiting and grieving. "You were almost claimed by the sea."  
  
This was Legolas before he had lost Chiara.  
  
"Ho!"  
  
Chloe looked up and saw Lex, no Elboron—and this time the true Elboron—up on the cliff, waving his arms to get their attention. And then she remembered Lex's promise. 'All should be as fate willed it.'  
  
The Silmarils, in their power, had brought her back in Chiara's place. Fate had willed that Chiara never perished when she plunged into the Sea.  
  
"Chiara."  
  
Chloe looked up into Legolas' eyes.  
  
"If I claim you over your father and your husband, and they oppose, I need your vow that you are prepared to leave with me."  
  
Chloe waited for a bit, and sent good wishes to those she left behind. Her father was gone, and Clark had a full life to live. Chloe Sullivan would disappear from the annals of the future world with no regret. She cupped his face and kissed his lips. "I vow with all that I am."  
  
Epilogue  
  
"Mr. Luthor! Mr. Luthor! What can you say about this strange new discovery in your property?"  
  
Lex waved away the reporters. "The tabloid was mistaken. There is nothing to see here."  
  
"Are you saying it's a hoax, Lex?"  
  
Lex smirked. "You said it yourself, Ms Lane."  
  
Lex walked into the cave. Immediately, his security barred any of the reporters from entering. Lex approached Clark, who was standing facing the cave wall.  
  
"Clark," he began. "Remember when you came to my house that night asking about Chloe and this... Legolas fellow?"  
  
Clark nodded. "You said they were never there. I remember it was an odd night. I had thought Smallville was under attack. But it wasn't."  
  
Lex took a slip of paper from his pocket. "Well it seems that the mysterious disappearing act that Ms Sullivan pulled two years ago is more intriguing than I thought."  
  
"You had it translated?"  
  
Lex knelt in front of the two statues carved into the wall. On the base, words were etched in an ancient language that took eight of the most brilliant linguists to decode. When Clark discovered the statues, they were both amazed at the incredible likeness to the lost reporter. Lex traced the characters and pointed to each as he read: 'Here begins the domain of Legolas and Chiara, King and Queen of Mirkwood.'  
  
fin 


End file.
